That Wonderful Christmastime
by QueenDromeda
Summary: 14. Fabian remembers, in his dying moments, the fairy lights his family and him strung up. - 13. Everyone feels something different towards Christmas stars. - A drabble collection focusing on the many wonders of the Christmas season. Varying relationships and characters.
1. Advent Calendar

Sighing, Lily Evans gingerly picked up the laminated cardboard calendar lying on her desk. Every Christmas, or more accurately every December, her parents would bring her and Petunia the colorful, candy filled, agendas that they would then use to countdown the days until Santa came.

Now it was the 20th of December, and she was just now getting to see the treat. It seemed her poor, magic-wary parents did not want to mail it to her, incase the owl was untrustworthy. Honestly, Lily thought, it's completely unreasonable to break a holiday tradition, over an animal that would get sick after eating chocolate.

Of course, while at Hogwarts, she didn't know about her families hesitance; it was only after she was back at home that the advent calendar was discovered. She ran her finger down the cool box, feeling more than tempted to rip open the tiny flaps and gorge herself in all the uneaten sweets, just like her family expected.

But she couldn't give in. Giving in would make her look like a child having a temper tantrum, and that was something that she could not have.

Instead Lily set the calendar back on her desk, pushing it across the sanded surface with her nimble fingers, until the dreaded thing fell off of her workstation into the wastebin next to it. At first she felt guilty seeing the vibrant container propped in the garbage, and she had to fight down the urge to pull it out.

Quickly, though, a wave of satisfaction washed over her. She felt like a character in a coming of age novel; not that her parents knew that she read those. While she was younger and "needier" in the words of her sister, she was the one to rid herself of childish tradition first. If she didn't need the advent calendar, than Petunia, who was older than her by two years, definitely did not need the calendar.

Besides, if she wanted chocolate she could always eat the last pieces in Tuny's.


	2. Eggnog Latte

Andromeda Tonks was not built to be in the cold, that was obvious. She was donning, despite the above freezing temperature, a puffed up ski jacket, snow boots, and every other winter necessity that was imaginable. Though not usually the kind of woman who valued what other people thought of her she wished that her weather tolerance was higher, especially in midst of all the stares she received from the other coffee shops occupants.

Luckily, she had only had to wait in the leather seat for a few moments before her husband returned, carrying two oversized mugs that were set unceremoniously on the table next to her. Smiling, Andy reached a gloved hand towards the glass, dragging it in front of her.

"You could take your coat off," Ted offered, lowering himself into the chair on the tables other side.

Using both hands to cradle the steaming drink, she scowled, "I know I could, but I won't."

Sipping his own drink, he laughed, "I hope Dora doesn't inherit your loathing of the cold; she'd probably make herself look like the Abominable Snowman."

"The _what_?"

Again her husband laughed, "Sometimes I forget you were raised away from entertainment."

Tilting the white liquid in her cup around, Andromeda scoffed, "And sometimes I forget why I married you."

In response Ted took another gulp out of his mug. Lifting her own glass up, she sniffed it, in a way she hoped was unnoticeable, catching the very, _very_, unpleasant smell of nutmeg. Now wary of the taste, she hesitantly took a sip. Of course, that decision was met with immediate regret, her taste buds rejecting the drink.

Spitting it back into the cup, she wiped her glove over her lips, "What the bloody hell was that?"

Her companion merely raised an eyebrow at her, "Don't like it?"

"What do you think?" She asked, her voice an octave higher, "What did you order me?"

"It was an eggnog latte, darling," Ted said, his voice caked with innocence.

Narrowing her eyes, Andy smiled, "And why, _love_, would you get me something you know that I despise?"

He sighed, "I figured it was a way to get you out of that ridiculous get up; eggnog warms people to their bones. Honestly, Dromeda, it's probably 20 degrees in here."

"That doesn't matter," She glared, "I don't like the cold; but you, sir, must love the couch, because that's where you'll be sleeping."

"You took one sip," He argued, taking another drink of his own latte.

"And your point is?" Andromeda smirked.


	3. Sugar Plum Fairy

He liked watching her. And yes, he did realize how creepy that sounded, but it didn't make it any less true. She was beautiful, after all. Hell, she was more than beautiful; the use of beauty was reserved for untouchable belles, and she was his. That thought alone made him giddy, though it also could have been the excess amount of fermented apple cider in his system.

The glass in his hand was nearly empty, and the old wooden chair he sat in was uncomfortable, but she was still happy; laughing with her friends, celebrating. A smile snaked its way onto his lips as he saw her look his way, grinning to him with that perfect mouth of hers.

He had know idea what he did to win her over after his constant nettling in school, but it's not like he would complain. Lifting the spiced drink to his mouth, he swallowed the last sip he had, noticing the way she dragged Dorcas with her onto the self-made dance floor. His smile changed into an amused smirk observing the stumbling movements of the two friends.

A memory then stood out to him in his alcohol addled mind. A few days ago, in an effort to celebrate the Christmas season, she had dragged him out to a muggle theater to watch a production of the Nutcracker. While that was definitely not his version of fun, she had enjoyed the play. And despite how mind numbingly boring he found the thing, one scene in particular stood out to him; the dance of the sugar-plum fairy. Not one to normally act dopey, even he had to acknowledge the acts grace.

But looking out at his fiancé, her red hair fanning around her and her pale cheeks flushed with drunk pleasure, nothing, not even the stunning fairy, could compare to her. She was perfect, in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. And the fact he was marrying this wonderfully amazing woman, made his sore butt and future hangover worth it.

Because she was Lily Evans, soon to be Potter, and she was his everything; that much was clear even when he wasn't drunk.

**ooo**

I had to sneak that Breakfast Club reference in there.


	4. Mistletoe

Marlene Mckinnon liked many things, but Sirius Black was not one of them. He was a Gryffindor, he was disowned, and he was loud- all things that she hated. Yet, by some accursed twist of fate, she was under the enchanted mistletoe with him. Who's bloody idea was it to put the stuff in the great hall anyways?

She was never going to live this down; hell, she probably wouldn't be able to show her face for months. Her parents would freak out once they found out that her lips had touched his filthy mouth- they'd kill her, then him, and whatever teacher hung it up, probably Dumbledore; though admittedly, the last two wouldn't be that bad.

On the other hand, the blood traitor seemed equally appalled at the situation they found themselves in. In fact, Sirius pushed himself as far away from her as he could get. Back on the negative side, because it wasn't like she was going to hold onto optimism for long, people were starting to stare.

Better to get this thing over with than make it a school wide spectacle.

Narrowing her darkly lined, blue eyes, Marlene hissed, "Well, are you going to kiss me?"

"I'd prefer not to," Black snarked, glaring right back.

"Come on, I don't want to be here all day."

He pursed his lips, "It's not like I want to either, but-"

"But nothing! Just- Just kiss me and get it over with!" The Slytherin interjected, the words she spoke tasting sour in her mouth.

Sirius's grey eyes widened for a moment, before he plastered on his scowl, "Bloody hell, Mckinnon! You know what, fine!"

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a second year, stand up on her tippy toes. Crossing her arms, Marlene refused to drop her gaze, "Fine!"

For a moment both of the Pureblood's just stood there, shuffling awkwardly, wondering who would initiated the dreaded kiss. It seemed that they both got bored with waiting at the same time, because as she stepped towards him, he stepped towards her. For a moment they stood there staring into each other's eyes, and then their lips crashed together.

Surprisingly, his lips were warm, and, dare she say it, _pleasant_- for a blood traitor, of course. Her red lipstick was probably staining his mouth, and their bodies were pressed together awkwardly, but she couldn't bring herself to be thoroughly disgusted.

When he stepped away, she noticed that his lips were indeed red; not only that but a faint tint of pink was visible in his cheeks. That meant that she was, in all likelihood, blushing as well. Glancing upwards, to the dreaded plant, she saw that the leaves were uncurling meaning that their tongueless kiss passed whatever magical test that they needed it to.

Sirius licked his lips, "Er- well, see you Mckinnon." Without waiting for a reply he strutted away.

"Bye Black," Marlene muttered, still confused by her reaction to the kiss, before turning her, now considerably less terrifying, glare onto the surrounding students.


	5. Christmas Jumper

Molly tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, smiling eagerly as her boyfriend shook a package in his hands around, "Oh, Arthur, just open it already!"

"I will, I will. Just making sure that every moment is seared into my mind," He laughed, still moving the lumpy thing around in his hands.

"You've held it for five minutes," She admonished, shoving him lightly.

Arthur grinned, but nonetheless began to tear at the brown paper covering the gift. His stubby fingers worked quickly ripping all the coverings off of the… Well, at first glance he was left staring at a folded, fuzzy, knitted collection of yarn. Then, in a stroke of genius, he took it upon himself to unroll it.

"Molls this is wonderful!" He cheered, running his hands over the Christmas jumper she'd made him, "How long did this take you?"

She blushed, the smile never leaving her lips, "It was no problem, dear. My mother showed me how to knit so I was able to make it in a jiffy; it's nothing special."

Turning to her, Arthur prodded, "Molls?"

"A week," She muttered, the blush spreading down her neck.

"You spent a week on something for me?"

Molly ducked her head, "S'not a bid deal, Arthur. Besides I wanted to do it."

Moving closer to her, the Weasley wrapped one arm around the girl, "Not a big deal, eh? I think it's a huge deal."

"You're just saying that," She giggled, peeking at him through her hair.

"No," He said, shaking his head, "I think this more important than that. I think this is the start of a new tradition."


	6. Family Gathering

"And F is for Friday," Lily cooed, bouncing her baby boy up and down in the air.

From the couch behind her, she heard Sirius chortle, "Friday is my second favorite F-Word!"

Already expecting this sort of reply from her house guest, the redhead merely raised an eyebrow, "Do you have to be so vulgar?"

"What? I didn't actually say it..."

This time she did turn around, cradling Harry against her chest, "Black, I'm letting you stay here through the holidays, the least you could do is to remember that there is an impressionable child here."

"Sorry, Lils. I forget that it's not just us," The wizard apologized, before continuing, "But I also seem to recall _you_ asking me to stay here, since you didn't want to be alone through Christmas with James being gone and all."

Lily frowned at her fiance's mention, "Well you don't have to be here- it's not like I'm forcing you. Besides if we're really all that awful why not stay with your family?"

She immediately threw a hand over her mouth, but Sirius was already laughing bitterly, "What family? I suppose I could crash mother's precious family gathering, but I'd rather not get murdered this close to the end of the year; it kinda goes against my resolution of surviving."

"Sirius, I'm sorry," She bit down on her lip, shifting her baby around, "But you're wrong about not having a family. Me and Harry are your family for now."

That seemed to help, as a smile spread across his face, "Already trying to replace Prongs, eh?"

Trying, and failing, to glare at him, Lily said, "If I was going to replace James I'd pick someone handsomer, Black."

"What?" He gasped looking at her in mock betrayal, before flexing his arm, "Do you not see these muscles? No way would you find someone better looking than me."

"Haven't you heard it's what's on the inside that counts?" She asked, wincing as Harry tugged on a strand of hair.

Sirius raised both his eyebrows, "People actually listen to that? I thought it was to just said to make unattractive people feel better about themselves."

"Of course you'd think that, Black," She sighed, a smirk flickering up at the corner of her lips, "But since you're so muscled why don't you carry the tree from the porch to in here."

"Now? It's below zero out there!"

Lily rolled her green eyes, rocking Harry, "Did I stutter?" Then as an afterthought she added, "Besides it would give us something to do as a _family_."


	7. Mulled Wine Candle

It was late at night, and the house was only lit by a few flickering candles. He was certain that he was the only one awake; the only one filled with anxious worry for what the next day would bring. His family was a mess, despite the glamour of perfection the outside world saw, they all knew it was crumbling apart.

Bellatrix was going mad; her mind warped by the dark arts. Andromeda left without so much as a goodbye. Narcissa was being forced into a marriage with Lucius Malfoy in an attempt to restore their reputation. And Sirius was acting like a Gryffindor through and through, going as far as insulting their parents.

He wished that he would stop.

He wished that the holidays were celebrated with the same esteem that they were before his brother turned into a blood traitor. He wanted his family to laugh again; to love again. He wanted his mother and father to feel more than cool proudness towards him. He wanted the shrieks of joy that came with Christmas, and the snowball fights, and the improv family events.

From his spot in bed, his eyes watered. This was not the break from school he expected. Sure he knew it was going to be loud with Sirius's blood traitor tendency's, but now the old house didn't even seem touched by the holiday cheer. And for once, he felt a longing for Hogwarts. The school with its warm halls, and multitude of tree's, and friendly demeanor. The school with the never weakening smell of mulled wine, coming from candles and dancing sleigh bells.

Tomorrow would be worse than today. There was no point in lying to himself, because everyone knew that everything would boil over Christmas Eve. It would be the day his brother decided his place in the family.

Turning over under the heavy covers, he closed his eyes. Maybe, if he was lucky, sleep would bring him dreams of sweet sugar-plums or brighter Christmas's. Maybe, just maybe, he would be lucky enough to escape from the harsh realities surrounding his own alliances. And, perhaps, he would be transported somewhere his family wasn't falling apart.

_(Just maybe things would be alright.)_


	8. Nativity

Twirling the wooden baby Jesus of his families nativity set in his fingers, James Potter frowned. It was nearly Christmas, only nine days left, and he had yet to come up with an original way to propose to his girlfriend. If he did something to tacky Lily would definitely say no, but if he went too traditional, too safe, then she wouldn't be thrilled either.

Women were confusing creatures, alright.

Sighing, he set the baby down, instead grabbing one of the wise men. Maybe a day of Hogsmeade with a fancy dinner after? No. He was fairly sure that fell under traditional. He grunted in frustration; this whole process was difficult, how other men managed he had no idea.

In a fit of frustration he threw the piece of wood across the room, feeling very satisfied when he heard it fall to the ground with a clamour.

From the doorway, he heard a familiar voice curse, "Bloody hell, Prongs. What did he ever do to you?"

Just what he needed; his annoying wanker of a friend to show up, "How'd you even get in here?"

Sirius's heavy footsteps got closer and closer until the estranged Black heir was right beside him. With nimble fingers he set the decoration back in the set where it belonged, not bothering to look at him.

"Your mum let me in, she said you were busy moping," Padfoot rolled his eyes, "Not that I believed her at first, but now, what's your issue?"

James muttered in embarrassment, "I don't know how to propose to her."

The Black looked at him like he was crazy, "You get down on one knee, Prongs-"

He interrupted, "Thank you, I would have never-"

"Let me finish," Sirius snapped, "Get down on one knee during Christmas, and just say, 'Lily Evans will you marry me?' Simple as that."

"Do you really think so?" He asked, doubtful.

Padfoot nodded, "I know so, Evans is all about simplicity."

"Lily Evans will you marry me? That's all?" James repeated, unsure if this was a joke or not.

"Yes, that is all you have to say."

He hummed, saying it again with slightly unfocused eyes, "Will you marry me, Lily Evans?"

_Will you? _


	9. Silent Night

_Silent night, holy night. _

Mary pursed her lips, trying to ignore the church choir that was singing in the middle of the street. The annoying group of singers had sung classics for the past hour; not excluding anything that had the word Christmas, Mary, or carol in the title. Not one to usually think of herself as easily ruffled even she had to admit this was getting irritating.

Was it really that hard to move to another part of the city to sing? Was it that difficult?

_All is calm, all is bright._

Feeling a newfound hatred of the holiday, she wondered if that could be used as an excuse to leave. Though, she didn't really need an excuse at this point, considering her boyfriend was an hour late, causing her song-induced torture. Twiddling her gloved thumbs, the blonde sighed. It wasn't like being stood up was a new experience; her sweetheart always had timing issues, finding himself stuck between responsibilities.

For once she wished he picked her over his friends or family. Maybe it was slightly selfish but hadn't she earned the honor by now? Hadn't she stuck by him for long enough?

_Round yon virgin mother and child._

Her eyes lifted themselves up from her lap, glaring at the group. Mary had half-a-mind to curse the muggles, but that would get her in more trouble than it was worth. Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she stood up, glancing one last time across the square. Of course, he didn't show up.

_Holy infant so tender and mild. _

By God if they sang one more line she would go crazy. A twinge of sympathy budded in her for the parents that had to listen to their children sing it the first time, only accompanied by a guitar. Their ears must have bled, and the composer, Fr. Mohr, was probably ripped apart.

With those happy thoughts, she began to walk away. Only she never got far. As soon as her small feet began to move across the street, a voice called her name from behind. His voice, to be exact. Of, bloody, course. For a moment she considered continuing on without responding, but a new ball of anger formed in her stomach.

_Sleep in heavenly peace. _

She whirled around, heels clicking on the pavement as she marched towards him, "You have a lot of nerve."

"Mary," He started, looking shameful, "I can explain."

"What is it this time? Did Sirius's motorbike break? Or did James and Lily need help cleaning the sink out? Oh, I know, Peter had a circumcision and you needed to be there!"

He blinked, his green eyes widening, "No! Come on Mary, let me explain."

"I have had enough of your explanations, Remus Lupin! All I wanted was one night together to celebrate Christmas before your friends took over your life; was that too much to ask for?"

"I'm sorry," He whispered, "I- I never thought of it like that."

She laughed humorlessly, "Of course you hadn't; you never have!" Mary let out a breath, "I think we should have a break, a good long one. Ring me when you have time to balance a girlfriend and friends."

"You can't mean that," He cried, reaching for her arm, but she shrugged out of his grip.

"Bye Remus," She sighed, before walking hurriedly the way she'd been going before. The realization of what just happened crashing over her, like a tidal wave.

_Sleep in heavenly peace. _


	10. Snowman

Petunia looked out of the fogged window, as best she could, watching Lily and their parents build a snowman. It was disgustingly cute and surprisingly distressing, and she didn't know how to react to those emotions. Sure she'd been invited, but the declination was out of her lips before her sister could finish speaking.

Yes, she knew it was rude, but she couldn't help herself. Their mum and dad had spent way more time with Lily than with her, and there was no reasonable explanation for the new change in attitudes.

She scowled, watching her father spin Lily around in the snow. Why couldn't her family just be normal? Normal families like to include all their children in activities, not just their favorites. Despite herself, Petunia wanted to go out there and take part, but even now, at eleven, her pride was too strong.

Instead, she turned away from the glass and her family. Clenching her fingers she stared pointedly at the school work in front of her. She didn't need them, and they obviously didn't want her.

Of course, that resolution did nothing to stop the shrieks of happiness from outside.


	11. Decorating

_Warning: Depressed character, blood, and cursing._

She looked at the box of ornaments that sat on the edge of her couch. It was tradition to decorate the Christmas tree with her family every year, and traditions were not meant to be broken. So, when the time came she took the dusty old container out, thinking it would be the same as every year.

Of course, it wouldn't be the same. Why did she even think that? Ted was dead. Nymphadora was dead. How would she, how _could_ she, do this by herself? The answer was simple, looming in the front of her mind; unspoken but well known by everyone who lost loved ones. They would want her to do this.

So she stood and opened the box.

First came the stringed lights. Ted would wrap her in them some years, making them dance around the living room. He'd start at the top, slowly spiraling the colorful orbs downwards. She tried to do it the same way, but tired of the act partway down the tree, choosing to cut off what was leftover of the lights.

Next was the ornaments. Unfortunately, the first one she saw was Dora's, a little glass angle inscribed with a prayer. Lifting the bauble with gentle fingers she twisted it around her hand, before feeling a wave of anger pulse through her. She crushed the glass in her hand, ignoring the way it pierced her skin.

She shut the box with a slam, taking one last thing out of it.

The star. A golden decoration, that she always put up. Now though, as she held it in a shaking hand, tears started falling down her face, memories racing through her mind. Ted proposing, Nymphadora's birth, Ted's thirtieth birthday, Nymphadora's first year at Hogwarts- each coming faster than the last.

Without any ado she threw the star across the room, crying even harder when it crashed against a wall.

Why was this so hard? Why was this so goddamn hard? They would want her to be happy; so why was it so goddamn hard to be happy? Why?


	12. Christmas Turkey

Sirius was laying spread-eagle across James's bed, processing the information Misses Potter had just crammed into his brain about how Christmas worked at their house. Everything from when to wake her and Mister Potter up, to the holiday brunch was explained in great detail to the Black. Not to say this was a new ordeal, because with his mother it definitely wasn't, but one thing stood out to him as strange.

Without moving, he asked James, "What's a Christmas turkey?"

From his spot on the floor the other boy rolled his eyes, "Tell me you're joking Pads. How can you not know?"

"No, I'm serious; no pun intended," He huffed, rolling onto his elbows so he could look down on his friend.

"It's pretty self-explanatory," James sighed, "A turkey you eat on Christmas. We've had every year I can remember."

"How strange," Sirius marveled.

Again, his friend rolled his eyes, "No, not really. What would you usually have?"

A frown flickered across his lips at the mention of a Black family tradition, "Kreacher would make a ham and a goose. Sometimes just the goose; sometimes just the ham."

James rose his eyebrows, "A goose? Now that is weird."

"It is not," He defended, feeling strangely protective over the dish, "Loads of people have them."

"Really," Prongs asked, "Name five families that eat them too."

Sirius lifted up his hand, "The Lestranges, Rosiers, McKinnons, Carrows, and Burkes."

"All snotty supremacists," James dismissed.

"Fine. Name five families that eat a turkey," Sirius ordered.

"Easy," The Potter laughed, "The rest of the continent."


	13. Stars

Everyone felt something different for the star upon the Christmas tree.

James felt happy for the most part, memories of past holidays surging through him; giving him a never-ending buzz. His parents and him would always take turns setting the decoration on top of the tree. His father would act like an oaf, pretending over and over again to drop the fragile glass thing, even when the threats his mother usually giggled out turned harsher.

His mother would set it in the highest branch, as gently as she possibly could; trying to make up for the years his father almost shattered it. The image of Dorea Potter, her hair just starting to grey and her long skirt swinging, standing on her tippy toes while her stiletto heels balanced precariously never left his mind.

But when it was his year to put up the star, he had the most fun. Though, he was, for the majority of his memories, too short to reach the top without a stepping stool, what he lacked in height he made up with finesse. He would sing at the top of his lungs, he would dance with practiced steps on the top of the stool, and he would joke until his parents cried.

Lily, however, remembered the star topping as an event to be left in the past. Her parents never tried to make it awkward, or unhappy it just sort of happened. Her father would make corny jokes about her magic, miming the action of using a wand. Of course, everyone else found that hilarious.

Her mother was just as bad, giving Petunia the honor of setting the star on the tree each year, despite how often she promised Lily, "You'll get to next year."

Though, looking back, it probably didn't help that almost every year the star would mysteriously break against the wall. Not that it was her fault or anything. The Evans family went through an abundance of styles for their tree topper, but in the end they all broke; just like every year Pet still put up the bloody star.

Harry, though too young to remember his own family traditions, could recall, if he tried hard enough, a woman laughing as her husband lifted her in his arms to the top of the tree to place a golden star. The man spun the woman around a lot, before kissing her; awkwardly at that, considering they were still laughing.

So, while he didn't know what that memory meant for the longest time, Harry still felt an inkling of joy and love towards the Christmas tree toppers.


	14. Fairy Lights

_Warnings:_ _Character death. _

He laid unmoving, his usually fighting body as limp as a rag doll on the rough floor. Blood was pooling around him, and Gideon's screams still echoed in his ears. There was no way he could survive this; he knew that, the Death Eater's knew that, and his twin definitely knew that judging from the cries he made earlier.

Not that it mattered; or that he cared.

He was done. Completely drained; completely ready. He was tired, but who wasn't with how the war was progressing, and just wanted to stop fighting; to stop living in fear. His death was accepted and he just wanted to be held in Death's clutches sooner.

A film covered his eyes, as he looked with unfocused vision up at the ceiling. The candles that hung down were no more than white smudges, but for some reason his exhausted mind couldn't help but compare them to the fairy lights his family and him would hang.

Gideon would tease Molly by saying that they were brighter than her. Molly would hit him instead of Gid, telling him to control his twin. _His_ twin. The siblings would all laugh, swinging the lights around the living room until they could pin them to the wall. Not this last year though; Molly was with her husband, whatshisname?

This year only him and his brother hung them. And it wasn't as fun for some reason. They were upset for some reason. But they made the most of it, savouring the time they had together. Not that they had any more time together. Gid was gone, dead, forever leaving him and Molly.

He wanted to shout; a newfound grief overtaking him but he couldn't bring himself to scream or move. Last time he moved it hurt so very badly. He still hurt; he didn't want to hurt. He wanted his brother. He wanted to attack the monsters that killed him. But, at the same time, he wanted nothing to do with life anymore.

Nothing at all.

A small, barely audible groan left his lips, and, with it, his last breath. The blots of light dimmed out, his vision tinged with darkness. A wave of pain rolled over him, but before he could even cry out, it left him. Slowly, as his aching mind finally faded away along with the pain, he allowed a smile to slide onto his lips, welcoming the tiredness.


End file.
